But Search The Land Of Living Men,

O Woman! In Our Hours Of Ease Uncertain, Coy, And Hard To Please, And Variable As The Shade By The Light Quivering Aspen Made; When Pain And Anguish Wring The Brow, A Ministering Angel Thou!

The Chain Of Friendship, However Bright, Does Not Stand The Attrition Of Constant Close Contact.

What I Have To Say Is Far More Important Than How Long My Eyelashes Are.

He That Climbs The Tall Tree Has Won Right To The Fruit, He That Leaps The Wide Gulf Should Prevail In His Suit.

Oh, Poverty Parts Good Company.